"It seems a hard case," I remarked.
"It is our law," was the reply; "if he had been a Turk, the same thing would have happened."
"No, it would not have happened! 300 piastres could never have amounted to 6000 piastres!" cried the Armenian indignantly.
It appeared that the case was one of hard swearing. The Turkish creditor had produced a piece of paper, on which was written that he had lent a larger amount than 300 piastres to Hanistan Ereek's father—the document in question bearing the latter's signature. This the son swore was a forgery. However, the Turk had been believed, and the Armenian had been sent to prison.
"What would have been done if this case had happened in your country?" asked the Caimacan; "would you not have put the man in prison for debt?"
"No; a son is not liable for his father's debts."
"Well, each country has its own laws, which doubtless are good for the respective inhabitants," observed the governor; "but if my father had died owing a sum of money, I should have thought that it was my duty to pay it."
"A very proper resolution," I remarked; "but supposing that a Government has contracted a debt, do you not think that its successors are bound to pay the interest of the loan?"
The Caimacan stroked his beard and looked at the Cadi, who presently answered,—
"We could not put a Government in prison."